Time is the sand i can't grasp.
Everything falls through the cracks in my hands.
The sand hits the glass and there isn't much left.
I feel as plain as the walls.
My age clings to my frame
And i still feel as plain as the walls that i'm staring at.
It's about time and it's not on my side.
All this time i've been occupied with the hands dealt and i thought that the deck would never run out.
I thought that the deck wouldn't run out.
Some times we're too hard on ourselves,
But most times i hate myself.
It's about time and it's not on my side.
All this time i've been occupied with the hands dealt and i thought that the deck would never run out.
I thought that the deck wouldn't run out.
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